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Monday, 13 January 2014

Banana Mondae

Rain drops like tiny pats
of encouragement. Hard work walking when the ground gives way. Sodden earth
sucks at boots, slurps at paws. It all is as it is to Dog, happily, unless a
thorn wedges in a pad, but only as long as the thorn wedges. Released, straight
back to the brambles she goes, bearing no grudge.

A fine line perhaps, between stupid and optimist? The determination to be dour
can't be any smarter. Quality of life is the deciding factor.

In a roundabout way this is why we have ice cream for supper. Homemade
chocolate sauce is upstaged by the hotplate heated banana: thrown on the
Rayburn hob it twitches till we laugh tears.

(Next time there'll be a camera on standby: this time we were struck
incapable.)